


Get Lit

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Hanukkah Fic, M/M, and a little bit of Sue Storm and Ben Grimm, sharing a bed trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: Peter spends the first night with the Fantastic Four.





	Get Lit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



> he's jewish and she should say it

Peter knocked lightly on the window, waving when Ben glanced up, one massive candle held carefully between two rocky fingers. He mouthed “Sorry I’m late,” his mask rolled up over his nose, and Ben rolled his eyes and called something over his shoulder as he continued to set up the Thing sized hanukkiah.

(Peter’d have been willing to bet it had “Made By Reed Richards” stamped on the bottom. There was a smaller one next to it which had the polished, well-loved feel of a family heirloom; Ben probably let someone else put its candles in place every night, too worried about breaking it to do it himself.)

Johnny came jogging into the room a moment later, a great big grin spreading across his face as he threw open the sash to let Peter slip inside. “Hey, Webhead; when you never texted back, I figured you were celebrating with your aunt.”

“I’ve got eight nights,” Peter pointed out, laughing, as he stripped his mask completely. “I figured I could spare one for the FF. Where’s the rest of the gang?”

“Suzie, Stretch, and the kids are off at a family dinner or summin’,” Ben rumbled. “They’re just running a little behind.”

“They are coming then?” Peter accepted the sweater Johnny was shoving at him with a gleeful expression on his face, not paying too much attention to it as he pulled it over his head. “That’s good! Franklin and Val are Jewish on their third parental figure’s side,” he joked. “They should understand their culture and trad–” he broke off, staring at his reflection in the window.

Johnny cackled, phone in hand to snap a number of pictures in rapid succession.

“This is… this is horrendous,” Peter said, blankly. There were actual flashing lights on his sweater. “Why am I wearing this?”

Ben snorted, reaching out to give Peter a clap on the shoulder that had him staggering to the side. “‘S a gift. Can’t turn down a gift, Spidey.”

“These are also gifts,” Johnny insisted, holding out a pair of blue sweatpants that read GET LIT across the ass.

“What do you think I am, a mannequin in the holiday section of Target?”

“Told you he wouldn’t like them,” Sue said, breezing into the room with a veritable armada of force field-levitated grocery bags drifting in her wake. Reed and the kids followed those into the kitchen to unpack them as Sue headed for Ben, stretching up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “We aren’t late?”

“We’d’ve waited.” Ben peered hopefully towards the kitchen. “Do I smell sufganiyot?”

“Johnny didn’t have time to cook today, so we stopped and picked some things up on our way home.” Her grin tilted sideways, that mischievous Storm spark in her eyes as she added, “Ben doesn’t even let sour cream into the house during Hanukkah, Peter; I hope you’re okay with apple sauce on your latkes.”

Peter wordlessly extended a hand to Ben for a high five.

The actual ceremony went quick- with Johnny in the room no one even had to fight with a lighter- but between the food and the gambling and the wine that magically appeared in Sue’s hands the moment the kids had been sent to bed, it wasn’t until one in the morning that Peter started to consider dragging himself away.

“Probably shouldn’t let you drink and websling,” Johnny commented idly, his legs dangling out into nothingness as he watched Peter stroll back and forth along the ledge, his face turned to the light polluted sky and its stubborn handful of stars.

They escaped to the roof an hour ago, leaving a sleeping Reed (literally) curled around a damp eyed Sue, who was getting weepy listening to Ben drunkenly ramble about his Aunt Petunia and her late husband and the holidays they’d used to spend together.

“Who, me?” Peter asked, holding his hands out to his sides and touching his nose with one index finger and then the other, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Yes, you,” Johnny said fondly. “You stuck your tongue out while you were doing that.”

Peter hummed noncommittally, tucking his hands into the pockets of the sweats he was wearing and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. He’d continued to refuse the Hanukkah sweatpants, but he’d eventually accepted a different pair, just to hide the webs. They were Johnny’s, worn and too long and pooling around Peter’s bare ankles.

He turned on his heel to make another pass, and wobbled dangerously–his spider-sense gave a half-hearted blare and Johnny made an aborted move as if to catch him, before Peter righted himself.

“Maybe a cab would be a better idea,” he admitted, carefully climbing down from the ledge, and Johnny huffed.

“You could just stay here.” He rolled his eyes as Peter looked over at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and pointed out, “You’re a grown adult, Pete; you don’t have a curfew, it’s not a school night, and the couch is–”

“Taken,” Peter blurted. “Reed and Sue and Ben…”

Johnny licked his lips. He wasn’t looking at Peter, staring out across the city instead, and his hair looked like spun silver in the light that spilled dimly across the rooftop from the door they’d left propped open behind them. “Well,” he said carefully.

“I could sleep on the floor,” Peter offered.

“Don’t be dumb. Didn’t I just say we were both adults?”

Peter swallowed heavily; his mouth suddenly felt far too dry for all of the wine he’d had that night. “I think you only said I was an adult,” he pointed out, and Johnny rolled his eyes again, spinning around to climb down from the ledge himself.

“Come to bed, Pete,” he said, catching his wrist with one hand as he passed, and Peter wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t have held his ground if he’d wanted to.

He didn’t, though.

Johnny led the way into the building, his fingers warm warm warm, and Peter hovered awkwardly in the hallway while Johnny picked his way around Ben to drop a kiss to a half-awake Sue’s forehead–it was intimate and sweet, a real sibling moment, and Peter almost slipped off to Johnny’s room on his own. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where it was.

But Johnny looked over at him, flipping the already-dimmed lights off completely, and Peter clung to the reckless courage that was already pretty much burned out of his system by his heightened metabolism.

Johnny didn’t catch his wrist again, just brushed past him in a way that- maybe only in Peter’s imagination- lingered for one long moment. In his room, they undressed uncharacteristically quietly, like they were reluctant to break the wine-induced spell, and then they were lying there unnecessarily close for in that huge, decadent bed, Peter’s arm draped around Johnny’s waist and his nose tucked against the nape of his neck.

Johnny shifted sleepily, mumbling, “Happy Hanukkah, Pete,” just before he drifted off.


End file.
